Spurs – What’s The Point of a Football Club?

March 4, 2011March 4, 2011 / Alan / 20 Comments

We the fans clasp the precious heritage and soul of our club in our hands. In a mixed up muddled up shook up world, we and only we provide continuity and unstinting commitment. Players and managers come and go. They may kiss the badge or effectively trample it underfoot, we hold it close to our hearts. We will be back next week.

In the build-up to big games, the media turn to us to validate the significance: the atmosphere builds, the ground is rocking, the town is alight. Not literally, presumably. Yet in the cold light of day, we will be told that football is a business. Be realistic – make money in order not only to be viable but also to compete in the quest for the Holy Grail, the sacred, some would say mythical, Next Level. No one is quite sure where that is or how to reach it, but we’re on our way. Teams field weakened sides in cup competitions because the bigger prize is to climb one or two greasy steps to mid-table mediocrity. Supporters kvetch about ticket prices. Crowds drop but that’s fine, as long as the drink is flowing in the corporate lounge. Success on the field is no longer the only goal. So what, exactly, is a football club for?

Until comparatively recently, there was a relatively straightforward answer. Each club was a private company run by a small board of directors who certainly controlled and probably owned the vast majority of the strictly limited shares. Well over 90% of the income was generated by fans coming through the gates. Those gates may have been ancient and rusting but the directors didn’t to need waste money on oil, let alone on any facilities inside the ground because the fans would come to see their team regardless. More success on the field, the fuller the terraces.

In the last 25 years, the number of stakeholders in the club, any club, has increased. The main newcomer is the shareholder because most of the big clubs are now public companies. Spurs were forerunners as Irving Scholar made us the first club to float on the Stock Exchange.

Now, when key decisions are made, as with any public company the interests of the shareholders must be taken into consideration, and that means profit. The composition of the board is different too. Directors are co-opted for their skills and influence. Most significantly, Tottenham Hotspur PLC is owned by ENIC, the English National Investment Company. The clue’s in the name – they need a return on that investment. Finally, football clubs still attract overbearing egos to their cosy boardroom, hoping to bask in the particular fame and glory that only our wonderful game can bestow. However, they are also doing what they do best, nose down on the trail of the filthy lucre. Alan Sugar is hardly revered for his achievements at Spurs, but despite a lack of success on the field and below capacity crowds, when he cashed in his chip he trousered a profit estimated to be anywhere between £25m and £35m overall. He saw an undervalued public company with assets and the capacity for growth.

Other stakeholders have elbowed their way into consideration. The F.A. always had a role in governing the game but it has been unceremoniously shoved aside by the all-conquering Premier League, whose aim is to generate as much money as possible for its members, rather than for the game as a whole. Sky TV is so close to the Prem, if we kicked the League up the backside, Murdoch would get concussion. The very fixture list is governed by their requirements. It’s the same in Europe. After a make-over, the revered European Cup, the ultimate prize, now rewards league failure with a lucrative and unnecessary group stage, so everyone has more chances of thrusting their noses into the trough.

This brave new world has distorted our priorities and our language. In the past, defining ‘success’ was easy enough – win something, if not, finish as far up the league as possible with a decent cup run thrown in for good measure. Now, success can mean other things. The prospect of winning a trophy, certainly of advancing as far as possible in a cup competition, is secondary to Premier league survival. The surprise is not that sides field a weakened team, it’s that anyone is surprised. Finishing fourth in most sports is finishing nowhere. In football, it opens the door to Aladdin’s cave. We fight, mewl and screech in the pursuit of also-ran status.

These issues apply to most top clubs in the country but at Spurs, recent events have thrown them into sharp relief. Setting aside the rights and wrongs of a move to Stratford, the debate created lines of battle. The Olympic site was the best decision in terms of the club’s finances, according to the board. Increased capacity and better infrastructure at an allegedly lower price was in the best interests of the club, as Daniel Levy put it. Many fans thought differently – it wasn’t in their interests, playing far from home, in another team’s territory in fact. Many would have gladly sacrificed the sanitised plazas with their cafes and leisure park and a trip on the Jubilee Line for a proper rebuilt football ground in our spiritual home, no matter how difficult it was to get a decent pre-match cappuccino.

In the long run, so the argument went, financial stability and increased income benefits us all because this can be re-invested in the team. However, it also means better dividends for shareholders and the club is a far more attractive prospect for potential buyers, should ENIC wish to sell, bearing in mind that the object of any investment company is to maximise the return on its investment.

In the debate, the name of another stakeholder was taken in vain, the local community. In the desire to get planning permission for the NDP, much was made of the improvements it would bring to a run-down area of London. As soon as that permission was granted, the people of Tottenham were unceremoniously and ruthlessly jettisoned, having served their purpose. Now all that mattered was money.

This conflict has always been there. Once it was a walk or bus-ride to the club for most spectators. These days, fans come from far and wide and whilst they bring business to local traders, they also bring disruption and traffic chaos. The anti-Stratford lobby looked to local MP David Lammy for support but he has a duty towards his constituents, not the likes of you and me. I was talking to a Spurs fan who has lived in the area for many years. Despite the much-publicised community work and appearances of the players in worthwhile local projects, he is scathing about their lack of genuine commitment to N17, saying the club has little or no connection to the locality and no genuine interest in the issue.

I believe the club has a duty to the community of which it is a part, regardless of whether it increases gates. The activities that do take place are valuable and should be extended. There’s the education project that brings football and education to local children and to those with disabilities, plus charity donations and the support of a football team for homeless people. Long may this continue, and should become a primary goal of the club, one of the benchmarks against which success can be measured.

My definition of success for the club is an organisation that has sufficient financial stability and the resources to function at the highest level of performance. Finish as high up the league as possible, and win something. This is not the be all and end all, however. The pursuit of profit and success on the filed at all costs must be mitigated by a sense of responsibility towards two other key stakeholders, the fans and the local community. If this means redistributing a proportion of our income or keeping a lid on ticket prices, then thinking twice about paying vastly inflated salaries, so be it.

Football and footballers are routinely vilified as poor role models for the young people who are in thrall to its charms. Watching my 11 year old grandson on a Sunday, their enthusiasm is infectious, However, there’s this one kid who hurls himself to the ground in agony if an opponent so much as touches him, others who mimic precisely bizarre gestures of open-palmed innocence if the ref blows against them. Ashley Cole brings a rifle to his workplace yet he’s free to play a few days later because it’s a vital game, one where one manager refuses to follow the rules that apply to all his peers and talk to a camera.

Football has a different, better message to deliver. Clubs should embrace the opportunities they have and exercise some social responsibility to their fans and their community and if this means success on the field or in the boardroom is harder to achieve, that’s fine. In fact, the League is so awash with money, this would cost but a fraction of their resources. Clubs can be role models too, of a organisation that understands its priorities, sticks to decent values and does the right thing. That would make us feel more part of what’s going on and ensure the club’s future by looking after the people who truly matter.

Spurs: Is This As Good As It Gets?

February 27, 2011 / Alan / 20 Comments

It’s thrilling at this time of the season when, usually, the games pile on top of each other so there is barely time to breathe between matches, but occasionally I appreciate a break. Maybe I’m getting on a bit now, need to take things slowly at my age. Nah – I’m fine, my enthusiasm for the game is undiminished by the passing years and the way money is in danger of poisoning the relationship between clubs and their fans. Rather, maturity teaches you to rest awhile and enjoy the view on along way, rather than hurtle from A to B.

Despite Tuesday’s defeat, as I suck a thoughtful tooth there’s plenty to relish. The 2nd leg against Milan will do but we are also 4th in the league after a good run of results and are playing some cracking football. In Modric, Bale and Van der Vaart we have three of the most exciting players in Europe. However, it’s given me time to catch up on a few thoughts left over from the Milan victory, one being a radio discussion about our future prospects. Was this momentous victory, one of the great Spurs performances of the last 30 years in my view, the breakthrough moment, the Yellow Brick Road to untold future glory, or was this a time to savour because this is as good as it gets?

The case for the first proposition is obvious – I’ve mentioned enough evidence already – so let’s look at the case for proposition 2, which goes something like this: Spurs cannot play consistently well to take on and beat not only the cream of Europe but also remain a fixture in the top four. To do this requires better players and better resources than we possess or are likely to possess. As sweet as victory as this was, in the cold light of day it’s out of synch with our true status.

In taking this on, I wish I could begin on the pitch but these days we need the Financial Times not the back pages to find many of the answers. Where there’s money, there’s power, and the single thing the powerful are best at is holding on to power itself. Despite the forthcoming changes to the relationship between the salary bill and income, Chelsea and Manchester City, bankrolled by billionaires for whom the purchase of a Torres or Toure has no more impact on their wallet than using a £50 note to light their cigar, will hold sufficient advantage to distort the market in their favour. United or would-be challengers like Liverpool have the might of corporate finance behind them. L’arse depend more than any of the others on the skill of their manager. Whilst his current reluctance to spend is unfathomable, the Emirates is a goldmine, their debt must soon be paid off and there’s a takeover in the air.

Fighting our corner is a shrewd businessman who falls into neither of these camps. More accurately he actually has both – our de facto owner Joe Lewis is a billionaire and corporate financier – but has access to neither. Consistently up in the top 15 clubs in the world in terms of income, we are unlikely to have the massive resources to match those of our main rivals. In ten or 15 years time maybe, not just when the new stadium is built but when the debts are manageable, but not yet.

However, I’m not giving up that easily. Let’s get back to what matters, what happens on the pitch. Spurs have to take the blueprint that got us here and throw everything behind that. Players. Players are our future. Young players who will mature – we will find them and once here, cherish them as if they had returned to suckle at their mother’s breast.

Time – give them time to develop, grow and achieve their full potential. With patience, time is a resource conspicuously lacking in the minds of Abramovich or City’s sheikhs, yet it is within our gift.

Process – this is a process, a flow of players joining us. As one reaches the first team, another is out on loan learning their trade, a third is sweating blood in the youth side. Whilst our own youngsters need to progress, our success has been to identify young players who have some first team experience elsewhere.

Football men. Football men in charge of the team who can make these players believe and excel, to be better than they think they can be. Most significantly, football men off the pitch and in the stands of grounds around Britain and and Europe, men who understand not just what a player can do but what they could become. A man like Comolli. Allowed too much influence by Levy, the club’s management and accountability structure hampered progress and Levy must never allow that mistake to be repeated. I’m aware he may not have personally picked all of these players, but in his time Gomes, Bale, Lennon, Corluka, Modric and Assou-Ekotto joined this club. Director of Football, chief scout, I don’t care what he is called, we need someone who can ensure a flow of players on their way up.

We’ve shown we can compete. Keep this team together and add quality all over the pitch, especially up front, and I am convinced we can challenge the best. Walker and Sandro are next in line: hugely promising. Hard enough though it is to find these precious and scarce resources, the true test is whether we can keep our young (ish) stars at the end of this and next season. The signs are good at the moment but let’s face it – in the summer bids for Luka and Our Gareth will start at £30m. I trust Levy is practicing his cold stare as we speak.

In one of the first ever posts on this blog, I answered the question of where we would finish in the league that season by saying that my true hopes were about the manner in which we went about things. I would have been happy if we were genuine contenders with a realistic chance of challenging for honours and the top four. Whilst I’m still not sure exactly how to define it, I know when I see it and that’s still how I feel. It’s what we are doing now. If we give it a right good go and finish 5th, I’d be disappointed but not too downhearted.

Right now, I’m pessimistic about the top four – 5th, lost by a short head is how it feels. The burden of expectation is starting to weigh heavy on our shoulders and our strikers are seriously misfiring, but to be serious challengers, now and in the future, is good enough because one day, one of Chelsea, City, United and L’arse are going to fall from their pedestals, as did Liverpool, and we need to be waiting. That day could be sooner than you think. As I write, L’arse will have to pick themselves up from their League Cup defeat, a hammer blow that they did not anticipate. City have drawn with Fulham – they are not yet a team, they have problems gelling as a team. Chelsea have misplaced their mojo and in the longer term need to rebuild. Finally, at some point in the next couple of years, United have the twin problems of replacing Ferguson at a time when they are burdened with debt.

Let’s reflect on how we got here, make a plan and stick to it. Levy has found money for a striker, even though we couldn’t find one, but in the transfer market it’s a scout that we need the most. Maybe we have one already. If so, if there is a man who brought Walker and Sandro to the club, then I salute you and I’m glad you do not seek the limelight. In considering the future let’s not forget to enjoy the present. This season is chock full of glorious memories and there are more to come. Now and in the future.

Finally, I’d like to join Spurs fans in mourning the loss of Dean Richards, who died yesterday at the tragically young age of 36. Signed from Southampton by Hoddle for £8m, a fee that was without looking it up the highest at the time for a centre half even though he was uncapped, I hoped he was the solution to our problems in the centre of defence that had dogged us since Richard Gough departed. Strong, experienced, not the quickest but still mobile, he was the big man at the the back, the leader we craved.

Well though he played, the fact that he never quite hit those heights meant that he was underrated by many. We now know something that even he did not at the time, that his balance was affected by a serious brain condition that eventually claimed his life. In the circumstances, his achievements were remarkable. My sincere condolences to his family. At Spurs we will have good memories.

You Make Your Own Luck

February 23, 2011February 23, 2011 / Alan / 35 Comments

Back down to earth with not so much a bump, more like an avalanche. Wile. E. Coyote, maybe, poised atop some improbably sheer mountain range, on the pinnacle of success, then his cunning plan fails, inevitably. He doesn’t just fall to earth. Rather, it’s a slow descent, each painful moment of impact freeze-framed with a resigned look to the camera. Close your eyes and in those moments, see Pav stupefied, JD glowering, Bassong vacant.

Although my mind has been overflowing with all things Tottenham Hotspur since the San Siro, I realised yesterday morning, vaguely, that I haven’t written anything since then. In my head I had, hundreds of pieces stimulated by that great day, but the week has simply flown past. No complacency – it was a feeling that I didn’t want to end and I had fallen under its spell.

Seb Bassong - Latest Picture

It’s tempting to view Spurs’ performance in the same way but I don’t believe they were suffering from a love hangover, or for that matter were up themselves, what with Europe and that. Tempting also to put this one down to familiar failings: on a bad run? Play Spurs, soon put you right! They won’t turn up. This one wasn’t quite like that. In fact, granted we were two down, unnecessarily, but in the face of ferociously determined opponents, we picked ourselves up and attacked consistently hard in the second half, until the third when we faded away to nothing. It was by know means wonderful but past teams would have buckled totally and spent that period looking at their watches and wishing they were in the warmth of the dressing room.

What we did see were a few chickens from this season coming home to roost. Our strikers were awful. Below our best, we nevertheless made more than enough opportunities to win this match, despite Blackpool’s massed ranks. Pav unerringly found the keeper every time, when presented with a few classic striker’s crosses. He moved well onto the ball, great contact and smack – at the keeper. Defoe on the other hand was unable to control his body shape at the moment of impact, falling away in a wild spiral. Predictably the ball behaved in the same manner, flying hihg and wide. Both wanted that extra touch, JD in particular that extra fraction. Yet this implacable Blackpool defence were never going to allow him that.

The strikers haven’t been scoring all season but the midfield have got us out of trouble. That’s fine – in the modern game it’s often easier for them to find space with late runs. No saving screamers this time, however. Forced to shoot from deep and never for a second allowed to settle on the ball, they queued up to sky it.

The signs were there from the start. Jordan, donning his glasses and wiping a touch of old man’s drip from his nose, looked more like granddad from the Werther’s advert than Braveheart, scourge of Milan. More significantly, in the first couple of minutes, Bassong made an error when under no pressure and presented Blackpool with the ball. Nothing came of it but the message rang out loud and clear – Spurs were vulnerable, and our excellent opponents scented blood. Conceding the penalty was needless, absurd and turned the match. From that moment we were always chasing the game.

Bassong is a good player, quick and tackles well, whose weakness is letting players get in behind him. I thought he had turned a corner after a coupe of sound displays, against Chelsea in particular when coming on as sub. However, he likes a run of a few matches to get settled and he was never comfortable last night. The writing may be on the wall. Harry has publicly criticised him this morning: history says this is the sound of the exit door opening. With Kaboul doing so well this season, Bassong is up against it. Having said this, I would have kept Gallas and Dawson together in the centre with Palacios at right back.

It’s the first time I’ve seen Blackpool for 90 minutes this season. There’s more to their success than devotion to the cause and hard work. They move the ball forward and wide, usually through Adam (don’t suppose it occurred to anyone to mark him?). It then often comes back across the other way then is switched once more. Defence suitably stretched, in comes the cross and people coming in late (they have the time to do so because of the movement of the ball in front of them) on the end of it. Campbell for example. Probably offside but our defence had been shredded by then, not for the first or last time.

Two differences from Milan – one, we allowed Dawson and Bassong to be pulled out of their comfort zone. Unprotected by the midfield and with Gallas unsure, they were all over the place. Two, runners didn’t track back. For Campbell’s goal, three Spurs men stop running as they reach the edge of our box, Campbell unchallenged. Basic, avoidable and, again, a problem we have seen before this season. That’s inexcusable.

Without going overboard here, we did well after the break with 20 minutes at least of sustained attacking effort. We kept a high tempo and worked hard. Lennon deserves credit for supplying enough crosses to pull us back. He works best in tandem with a full back. Last night he was isolated and facing two defenders, yet he contributed a good performance. So not so much about a lack of leadership, more about the unforgiveable missing of chances, mental fragility and an inability to deal with Blackpool’s tactics.

One thing I have noticed about our opponents is the number of managers who say that they have never known a game like it, where they have had so much of the ball and so many chances without winning. Even allowing for the post-match paranoid managerial myopia, this is not a coincidence. Blackpool pack their area, lining up as deep as the penalty spot or even the 6 yard area, massed ranks of drilled defiance. We had 3 off the line, I think, but this is no accident. Blocks in the area or on the line, it’s all the same. No room and no time for our passing and touches on the edge of the box. We made it easier for them because they were defending a two goal lead. They did have some good fortune, the ball that went along the line, right to left then back again, but that’s not the point. Truly, you make your own luck. We would do well to remember that.

In the first half, Arsenalesque, we wanted too many touches in the box. In the second, we missed the ones that came our way, then Benny lost concentration and another mad mad moment. Pav scored, and to be honest, I was disappointed because he should take no credit away from that performance. Gallas shooting left-footed, 25 yards out, several men well positioned inside him, which sums up our night. Absurd and uncontrolled.

Spurs – Just Magnificent

February 16, 2011February 16, 2011 / Alan / 26 Comments

Last night Tottenham Hotspur produced an outstanding 90 minutes of football to dominate, frustrate and then, astonishingly, defeat AC Milan. Mighty Milan, clear at the head of Serie A, bristling with world-class footballers skilled in the particular wiles of winning in Europe, we took them on and left them bewildered and whinging.

This was a remarkably mature and composed performance. Throughout we remained poised and self-assured, playing with purpose and unshakable focus. Injuries, substitutions and our opponents’ calculated determination to disrupt our concentration by fair means or foul, mostly foul, were brushed aside. The game was all there was. Such was their application, if the city had gone up in flames around the stadium, Palacios would still be tackling, Sandro tracking back, Van der Vaart and then Modric prompting, Crouch labouring heroically, Dawson and Gallas a brick wall at the back.

These and others crafted highly impressive individual displays but the victory was all about the team. From first to last they worked their socks off for and on behalf each other. Whether it was the wide men dropping back, Crouch being available up front or Rafa slipping between their back four and midfield, not once was a Spurs player in possession left isolated, nor a defender left exposed. A mate was always around to lend a hand.

Already I’m repeating myself but I can’t get over how smooth and assured we were. Over and above the individuals or tactics, of which more later, we carried ourselves with a confident collective determination that I’ve not seen from this team before. It was a self-awareness, a collective consciousness that transcended the combined talents of 11 footballers. It’s like watching your children grow up. There comes a moment when you suddenly realise that they become young adults. Gradual though it may be, there’s a point at which they appear to transform. Last night, these 11 had a sense of being, of being Spurs.

I confess: this blog is peppered with references to lack of resilience, concentration and leadership and I did not believe that we were capable of playing this way. In Europe, away, against Milan, at the San Siro. I’m struggling to recall a performance as momentous in similar circumstances. I say struggle – lying awake because the adrenalin is pumping hours after the final whistle, thinking about Spurs in Europe is hardly a struggle. However, I couldn’t come up with much. The team of the early seventies produced a draw under intense pressure, maybe also in Milan. I haven’t looked it up so I’m happy to be corrected, but it was the same thing, under pressure we stayed cool and controlled much of the game, Recognise the context: without exaggeration this one is right up there with the great away European trips of the last 50 years.

Hard to know where to begin, especially as I’m still reeling with the emotion of it all. I’m so bursting with pride over the efforts of my wonderful team, just hook me up to the National Grid and the surge will mean that global warming is a thing of the past. However, let’s start off the pitch. Redknapp set up the team perfectly. Given what has transpired, I have to pinch myself that this was a makeshift midfield that had never before played together, comprising a winger, one centre midfielder prone to errors, brainstorms and wayward passing, another who is only 21 and who has made only a handful of starts, rounded off with an arrival so recent he can barely find his way from the dressing room to the coach. Two world-class footballers were absent, although one, Modric, came on to great effect later. A matchwinner who has electrified Europe and twice destroyed the European Champions was at home, injured.

Yet we proceeded to outwit and out-battle Milan. From the outset, we pressed and harried, with a few little niggles into their heels, in safe areas far from our goal. Sandro covered and chased while Wilson pursued them like a man possessed. Seedorf, their key link between defence and attack, was pushed further back, rendered ineffective. Deprived of service, Milan’s two strikers were largely anonymous in the first half. Rafa inserted himself between their midfield and the back four, chasing again to prevent attacks developing from deep and constantly occupying the attentions of their back four and defensive midfielder. He prompted and crossed, always dangerous with his shooting, and the turn and chip was utterly exquisite.

Because Milan play with little width, Pienaar could come off his wing to make the extra man in the centre when we had the ball. He’s a skilful, shrewd addition to the team. Here, he helped us hugely with the main task, that of retaining possession. Lennon was a constant threat, upping the pace and the anticipation as he repeatedly took on and beat his full-back. Just as valuably, both men dropped back to cover when we lost the ball. Noticeably we learned the lessons from earlier this season, from the San Siro in particular, where the wide men stayed too wide. By staying tight, we restricted Milan’s space in front of our area, precisely the space that VDV was exploiting so effectively at the other end.

Another confession: loving it, I was equally waiting for it all to end. i thought we would be pegged back at the start but no, right into our stride and on top. Flowing effortless movement on and off the ball, diagonal crosses to Crouch causing problems. Only a matter of time before Milan pulled themselves together. Ok then, 30 minutes gone now, nothing from our opponents but we had gone quiet too. They decided to handle Crouch by giving him a sly nudge with the keeper coming way off his line to claim the ball. His substitution could upset that tactic but we sat back and didn’t pressure him.

Half time now, we’ve dominated. Pato on, we’re pushed back, can’t get hold of the ball. But still Milan fail to make serious inroads. Palacios and Sandro diligently track back, patiently waiting for our chance. Two men out when the Italians attack down the flank, bodies between them and the goal.

VDV brilliant but tired. Luka on, two weeks after a serious operation yet as fit as a fiddle, smoothly settling in slightly deeper but what we needed, collecting the ball, moving it on, foot in with the tackle. probably pre-planned, kudos again to Harry, knowing we needed Luka’s game at this point. It was then, as we got onto the ball once more, that I realised this wasn’t going to change. We stopped Milan from playing. Flamini would have been sent off in the Premier League, no question, but he achieved his gaol – do some damage. I feared Gallas on the flank could be a problem. he was caught out once and scampered back, no damage done, never again to venture forward. Otherwise, immaculate. Benny’s expression, unchanging mild surprise, up and down the flank, calm in defence.

Don’t want to dwell on Gattuso’s ill-advised confrontation with Joe Jordan – I know who my money was on – for fear of drawing attention from our wonderful victory. Suffice to say that needle is part of the game whether we like it or not. Gattuso tried to take us on. He says Jordan had been having a go throughout the game ‘in Scottish’ (has the joy caused me to become delirious or is the Italian married to a scot?). Whatever, Gattuso failed on and off the pitch. A sign of our superiority that that had to resort to the roughhouse to put us off but they singularly failed to knock us out of our rhythm. Spurs won that confrontation too.

Unfair though it is to single out individuals, Sandro was astonishing. As I said on Saturday, he drops back naturally into the back four when the ball is out wide or tucks in just in front of the back four when it’s in central areas. Alert always, he tirelessly tracked runners into the box then was fearlessly decisive in the challenge. This man could be the lynchpin of our team for years to come.

Plaudits to two men I have criticised in the past. Alongside Sandro, Palacios gobbled up the yards and the ball whenever it was in reach. The two of them shielded the back four so they had to do their work where they are at their best, in the area. The mighty Dawson did not let us down. Only twice was he forced out of position, such was the protection, and on both occasions he won the ball. And Crouch, dear Crouchie, Simply – on the night we could not asked for more.

Then, a moment dreams are made of, where legends are created. Humble beginnings. Sandro wins the ball for the umpteenth time and Luka touches it on. Suddenly, Lennon’s pace takes the breath away, he’s off into the wide open spaces, defenders shattered in his wake. No aimless run this, the ball is perfectly under his spell. A touch just a little touch sideways and it’s in the back of the net from Crouch.

Normally I like to hold the real-time memories of goals in my head, the blur, the thrill, the exhilaration, but this one, in the low angle replay, Crouch turns to the camera, arms outstretched, no choreographed goal celebration, just genuine joy, while in the background Lennon wheels away in the opposite direction, in his own world, arms similarly outstretched, the joy of the provider as great as that of scorer.

Let’s end it there, although I could go on for pages. Because the game is ultimately not about the formation or tactics. Rather, it’s about the blissful exhilaration from moments like these, the unconfined overwhelming joy of such a complete performance plus, lingering today, a glimpse of the future in the staggering potential revealed last night. To unashamedly borrow a well-worn phrase – this is glory, this is style. One of the best displays in the last 30 years. Magnificent.